


Mannerisms

by rose_ebottles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/M, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_ebottles/pseuds/rose_ebottles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it truly that difficult to balance work with leisure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Being a nanny is an.. interesting job, to say the least.

Kanaya Maryam, nineteen years of age. Your interests include fashion, gardening, and anything to do with gazing at the sky. You’re one of the few that actually enjoys the sun, and for that you are grateful. It gives you time to yourself, to sew, to think, to keep yourself in your right mind. The twins are a handful enough; It would be even harder to take care of them if their teacher had quit when he threatened to. 

Equius Zahhak, twenty-one years old. He’s very akin to a horse, you’ve observed, in the way he presents himself: Calm, collected. If you startle him, he’ll retreat to his corner and brood on what you’ve done for quite awhile. When he’s speaking of something he’s particularly fond of, such as archery, or horse-back riding, his gaze retains a far-off look and a smile crosses his features. Or speaking of his(rather idiotic, if you do say so yourself) views on castes in society, his posture shifts to be even more authoritative. You always thought that was rather endearing.

At the moment, you’re occupying yourself with turning the sheets for the girls. They’re very picky about their sheets; They don’t even let the maids touch them. You hum softly to yourself as you usually do, your small smile an indication of how much you enjoy having something to do besides listening to gossip or attending to the girls’ hands and feet. You subconsciously rub at the back of your neck as you think of the way they make you crane your head to speak to them when you’re brushing through their hair, careful to braid Meenah’s as precisely as possible. For if you do not do it exactly the way you are supposed to, she shan’t be happy with you; Recalling every one of the few times you’ve done so brings a dull ache to your back that you’d rather do without.

You finish with the sheets and leave the blankets to the maids, giving a pillow one last fluff before you leave the room soundlessly. 

Of course, that’s when fate decides to throw your worries back at you, seeing as now you’ve smacked straight into a large chest. It takes a moment to pinpoint who exactly you ran into, and when you do, you feel your face burning with embarrassment. You jump back immediately, bowing to the teacher. A disdainful look paints his face from what you can see through your fluffy hair. “My apologies, sir,” you say in the strongest voice you can muster, bracing yourself for a clout to the ear at the most or a lecture at the least, but neither is forthcoming, you find.

"Present yourself properly." His voice is deep, but he doesn’t sound disgruntled. You take this as a good omen, slowly straightening your back and laying your hands delicately in front of your skirt. From where you stand, you can tell he’s sweating again, and you bet he’s happy for the ponytail to keep the salty substance from causing his hair to stick upon his neck. You keep yourself carefully deadpanned, eyes downcast. You expect it to come now, a smack, his voice raised at you for being so insolent. But once again, none of what you expect happens.

You could swear you can feel his gaze lingering on you before he walks past you, stride never breaking, his posture straight, hands locked behind his back. All of this, you notice with a glance from your peripheral vision.

Maybe being here won’t be too bad.


	2. Chapter 2

The days following the incident in the hall leave your head spinning.

You continue along your daily routine, following the Peixes twins like the loyal servant you are, tending to every need and complaint, being sure they’re prepped for every gathering they are to attend. There’s a ball coming up; a gala, really, to celebrate their shared thirteenth birthday.

You wonder briefly if they’ve ever had time to themselves, not to count their bedtime. You know they just stay up gossiping about trivial things (their mother planning to marry low on the caste, Feferi babbling on about her moirail and Meenah mentioning something about the new ‘bling’ she’s acquired). Not that you listen much.

Being their attendant, of course, implies you also accompany them to classes. You usually don’t pay much attention during their private lessons, often opting to bring a book for reading or a sketchpad to pass the time. Despite your looks, you really are one to be wary of your appearance, and how you present yourself to others means everything to you. You think that maybe, by some stroke of luck, you’ll be able to shift the negative opinions on the caste system, even by just a margin.

Someday.

Today you forgot your distractions in the hurricane that was trying to keep the Prices twins in order. You’d think it easy to do; You’d think wrong. They’re truly twin terrors. Meenah calculates and Feferi executes. It’s actually quite surprising, how devious Feferi can be. She’s so kind-hearted, you wouldn’t guess- 

"Hey, he’s talking to you!" A sharp pain in your left side and a harsh whisper from Meenah breaks you from your train of thought. you look up to see the teacher, brows raised, staring down at you through his(ridiculously unnecessary) glasses. "I’m sorry, what were you saying?" You ask dumbly. Well, there goes your reputations as a respectable jadeblood.

The Zahhak clears his throat. He doesn’t like repeating himself. “I was just informing you that you will not be accompanying the girls this Sunday.” _What?_ You can’t have heard him right. You follow these girls everywhere. It’s your job, the only thing you truly know to do.

"Excuse me?" You ask disbelievingly. You can’t really think straight at the moment.

Before he repeats himself once more, you hold a hand up to delicately stop him. he seems in need of a handkerchief. “What am I to do, then? Not attend, surely.” You manage to keep your voice calm and steady, but you’re beginning to panic. Do they expect you to sit around while the girls you’ve become so accustomed to taking care of are left without someone to talk to?

"That’s exactly what we expect you to do, actually." He fixes you with a hard stare and you try to keep from flinching. He clears his throat, continuing before you have time to retaliate. "Her Imperious Condescension has requested you attend as a citizen, not a servant." He seems displeased with her decision, but carries on as expected. "You are to design your own dress and have it made by the time of the gala. You are to do minimal work for the Peixes until it is complete." He tugs off his glasses, gazing first at the girls, then back at you. "That is an order."

_It’s going to be a long week._


	3. Chapter 3

The amount of effort it takes not to balk at such an order is incredible.

Why is Her Imperious Condescension being so suspiciously kind? You’ve never experienced anything more positive than mild disdain when she stares down at you from behind her gaudy spectacles. You always wondered why she chose pink as her color--as far as you know, the tradition of the Empress and her descendants using it--and gold-- as a mark of nobility began with her reign. That’s what your mother tells you, anyhow.

Speaking of your mother: You should visit her, after chores are done for the day. She’ll have sound advice and will aid you in designing a dress to be made in six days and still look presentable for such an event as the princess’ birthday gala. What is her end goal? Is she aiming to embarrass you? Are you, unwittingly, going to be entertainment for her and her harem? The possibilities make your head pound.

The rest of their lesson goes fairly smoothly, and Equius was kind enough to provide you with a pencil and loose paper to begin your design. Your eyes meet as he hands the materials to you, and you notice just how _exhausted_   he looks. No wonder he wears tinted glasses; one needs to look respectable at all times, and the dark circles under his eyes would cause discourse.

By the time it’s over and the girls race to the front garden for their daily playtime(which, you’ve learned, is one of the tasks that will be covered for you by one of the maids), you have a rough sketch laid out. It’s simple, but refined. It falls just below your knees and will require a few petticoats to reach the volume you’ll want, but you’re sure there’s extra toulle laying around somewhere. Your issue will be boning the corset.

This is all getting very expensive.

“Sir,” You ask, realizing you were so in the zone that you’re still in the classroom, where Equius is going over paperwork--more than likely the girls’ assignments from the past few days. He raises his head and looks at you expectantly.

“How… am I to fund this? I don’t have much, and I do not know if I should count on the leftovers from the girls--”

“You will be provided with what you need,” he interrupts, which irks you, but you stay quiet. “That is what I was told. When you go to town next, take note of prices and locations of what you require and the rest will be taken care of.”

That sounds cryptic. “Are .. are you sure there isn’t some kind of mistake? I’m grateful for the offer--really, I am-- but.. Six days to look presentable for something as important as the girls’ birthday--I just don’t know if I can do that.”

Equius sighs, rising from his desk. His hairline is plastered to his forehead. He abandons his paperwork to meet you halfway at the desk in which you’re seated, and you timidly raise your head to meet his gaze.

“Listen,” he says slowly, making sure he has your full attention before speaking again. “I don’t know why she decided to do this, or why she thought it would be best that I deliver the news. I imagine this is all part of some sort of horseshit--excuse my language--master plan to entertain herself and us higher castes. It’s convoluted, and quite strange that she would plan to have you shirk your responsibilities just to attend a gallop--I mean, gala.” he clears his throat. You grin.

“Quite a slip-up,” you say, forgetting for just a moment that you’re talking to someone higher than you.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he answers, and you could swear that you saw the corner of his lip raise just slightly.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

_ It won’t be too difficult. _


End file.
